Entertainment or blackface? Decoding Orientalism in a post-9/11 era: Audience views on Aladdin

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Notes

Project conducted under the auspices of the Tessellate Institute, a charitable organization dedicated to studying the lived experiences of Canadian Muslims.

With apologies to the author, this is a phrase I regretfully neglected to record the bibliographic details for.

Surprisingly, Cheu’s edited collection examining race, gender and disability in a wide range of Disney products contains no mention of Orientalism in Aladdin, even though several authors mention the film. One chapter on Orientalism focuses on representation of East Asia, with a focus on the Siamese cats in Lady and the Tramp.

A 2016 travel piece about Morocco for the CAA members’ magazine provides a case in point. In a description about the “cacophony,” “dizzying array of snake-charmers, maze-like alleyways,” and rich array of goods in a “traditional Berber” souk, we read, “Consider the intricately filigreed tin lamps worthy of Aladdin down one alley, then stroll further and check out the hand-painted pottery (Stevens 2016, 9).” The word Aladdin connotes more than simply a fictive boy character in a story—it connotes the package of the Orient: exotic, backward, different, inferior, barbaric—what Edward Said analyzed as Orientalism.

Nance (2009, 102–105) provides an example describing in detail the Shriner’s version of “hajj,” a religious obligation of Muslims to visit the Kaba in Mecca. The Shriners would enter the room in Biblical “stage costumes,” whispering the password, “Mecca.” A black pedestal in the center of the room was decorated with a scimitar next to a table draped with a black cloth, upon which was placed a Bible, a Qur’an, and a black stone. On the right was a table burning incense. They would face the Orient, saying a “Grand Hailing Salaam,” bow with arms raised forward. After this they would half undress, novices handcuffed and knock on the door of the main chamber, answering the question “Who dares intrude upon the ceremonies of our Mystic Shrine?” with “poor sons of the desert.” They would recite portions of the Qur’an and other Shriners would make lots of loud noises and strike gongs. After a ritual cleansing, the High Priest would command one of the “Arabs” to unbind the novices’ hands, and they would lie down on a plank to rest, whereupon someone would pretend a small dog was urinating on their face, or they would swing from a rope while their behinds were “paddl[ed] [with] carefully-timed firecrackers.” In 1923, there was a Shriners’ parade down the “Road to Mecca” and a “Garden of Allah” reception at the White House with President and Mrs. Harding (Edwards 2000, 52). Clearly these were different times in the United States.

The opening stanza was changed from: “Oh, I come from a land/From a faraway place/Where the caravan camels roam./Where they cut off your ear/If they don’t like your face/It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home” to “Oh, I come from a land/From a faraway place/Where the caravan camels roam./Where it’s flat and immense/And the heat is intense,/It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home.” (Fox et al. 1993).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Katherine Bullock

Katherine Bullock is a Lecturer in Political Science at the University of Toronto Mississauga. Her publications include Muslim Women Activists in North America: Speaking for Ourselves, and Rethinking Muslim Women and the Veil: Challenging Historical and Modern Stereotypes, which has been translated into Arabic, French, Malayalam, and Turkish.

Steven Zhou

Steven Zhou has a Masters of Journalism from Carleton University and works as a freelance writer for The American Conservative magazine, the Globe and Mail, The Ottawa Citizen, Al-Jazeera English, OpenFile Canada, Rabble.ca, Muftah.org, J-Source, Counterpunch, and Embassy Magazine, among other outlets. He is a monthly columnist for The Islamic Monthly, a U.S.-based magazine on post-9/11 politics and culture.